CHUNG TAI CHAN MONASTERY

A couple of points as I continue my reports on the trip to visit Taiwan.  First of all, let me clarify that the entire cost of the trip for me, including spending cash, was due to the generosity of some very wonderful people. It did not cost me a penny (or other units of currency). Even though the trip was physically hard on me, as well as emotionally difficult to some extent on both June on me, the amount of learning for me (and, I like to think, some little contributions I was able to make) definitely made it worth it.

Second, one purpose of the trip included visiting with local Christians, some of them converts from Buddhism, which--as in most parts of the world that declares itself to be ever-so-tolerant--can bear a painful price tag. We made some great contacts, but for the most part I will not discuss those visits.

Third, if you're waiting for stories on what we did for fun, you apparently never took my regular world religions class (before my energy started to give out), and so you aren't aware of the fact there is nothing more fun for me than visiting temples (. . . well, and playing music and watching auto races and doing web sites . . . ). Anyway, we spent an enormous amount of time just traveling back and forth, and I used a lot of that time for zombying out. We did not go surfing or rock climbing.

A number of the local highways led through tunnels.  These conveniences of transportation have, however, raised some serious opposition from citizens in a traditional Chinese mode of thinking.  You see, a mountain represents a dragon, and a tunnel that goes right through it would break the backbone of the dragon, which is a bad idea, both for the dragon himself and for the larger world whose balance is being upset by the loss of dragons.

Now, then, our next temple was the huge Chung Tai temple.  It fit the pattern of most of the places we visited: it was built recently under the guidance of a contemporary leader.  In this case, it was a man named Wei Chueh, in the direct succession of Zen masters, going back to the remarkable Bodidharma who brough Zen (Chan) to China and whose spiritual genealogy can be traced back to Mahakasyapa, the Buddha's first successor and presumably also the first patriarch of Zen.  Wei Chueh founded a separate monastery in 1987 and this place in 2001.  As you can see by the pictures, they are doing quite well.  Over the last twenty years, more than 15,000 monks and nuns have received full ordination from him.  These are roughly the same figures we heard in the context of other new Buddhist orders in Taiwan.  

Our guide was a nun who went by the name of "Simplicity," who turned out to be originally from Hanover, Germany.  She took us up all thirty-two floors of the temple; fortunately most of the stages were accessible by elevator.  Regular visitors and worshipers were only allowed on the first floor, which contained most of the normal statues, some of which I'll come back to shortly.  It included the representation of the earthly Buddha (Sakyamuni) depicted below. Then on the second floor there was a statue of the Buddha's spiritual body, much larger and more impressive.  Occupying stories nine through fifteen was the Buddha's Dharma body, a huge all-white statue that leaves you breathless, even if you take the elevator and not the stairs.  Going further up, there is a pagoda dedicated to the Medicine Buddha.  It would be a large building just if it were standing by itself outside; here it is a large building occupying the top floors of a huge building. It is constructed entirely of wood without any nails.

The globe on the very top is dedicated to all Bodhisattvas.  As an interesting by-product of the spherical construction, if you stand in the very center of the room and speak, you can hear your voice as it would be heard by other people.  There is no particular religious significance to this phenomenon, and if you don't like the sound of your own voice, it's an annoyance.  

Let me come back to the statues on the bottom level.  Many depictions of the various Buddhas have them accompanied by two Bodhisattvas.  In the case of Sakyamuni (Siddhartha Gautama, the "regular" Buddha), these are often two of his first disciples, Mahakasyapa and Ananda.  We already mentioned the former, who assumed leadership after the Buddha's death and is considered the first patriarch of Zen.  According to the tradition, Ananda had not yet found enlightenment by the time of Buddha's death because he was too hung up on intellectual questions.  He was supposed to have had a tape-recorder-like memory. Mahakasyapa finally brought him to the point of realization, and Ananda eventually became the second patriarch.  Ananda is credited with being the source of much of the enormous collection of the Buddha's teachings, called the "Three Baskets." This brings us to the so-called Pali canon, of which I can tell you next time because it was, in fact, an unplanned destination on one of our excursions.  

 The Bodhisattva Temple

The first temple we visited in the Taichung area was undoubtedly the most personal.  As you can see in the picture, it occupied a little niche on a busy street. I removed (by the magic of Paintshop Pro) a huge light pole in order to give you a decent picture of the building, which very evidently is simultaneously serving as growth facility for various species of vegetation.  The external botany makes for a great effect from the inside, though, such as with the picture-window like front of the temple. You are looking at the guilded figure of Guanin (Kuan-Yin) in front of the standing Buddha Amithaba.  

For those who are new to this world, Guanin is a Chinese folk legend, who became known as the goddess of mercy.  When Buddhism came to China, her identity was merged with that of the Bodhisattva of Mercy, who has been known by the snappy name of Avalokitesvara. (I doubt that his name gets butchered all that much more than, say, "Winfried," does.)  Just as I had seen before in Hong Kong and Singapore, here in Taiwan also the two names and personalities were interchanged freely.  In other words, when people were not intending to be technically accurate, they might easily refer to a representation of the male Avalokitesvara as Guanin, or they might also speak of a Guanin statue as Avalokitesvara.  Please note the picture of the clever depiction of Guanin on a cloud on the external stairwell.

Furthermore, as long as we're addressing the basics, I trust my well-informed readers (a redundancy, to be sure) know that there are numerous Buddhas in the various schools of Buddhism. Amithaba, supervisor of the Western quadrant of the universe and artisan of the much-desired Pure Land, is one of the most popular ones.  

Then there was the statue of a person whose legs were not in the lotus position, and whose finger was pointing at his cheek. It is common knowledge that the various hand positions (mudras) and other bodily attitudes of Eastern divinities have specific meanings, and so it is in this case.  A statue under this description represents Prince Siddhartha after his chariot ride, agonizing over his impending decision to leave the palace and seek enlightenment.  

 The Master of this small temple was the Venerable Huei Guang.  At one time he was a science major at a university in the United States, felt called late in his studies to go into religion and philosophy, but decided to finish his science major before enrolling in seminary (in other words, his early educational biography was very similar to mine).  After several years as monk in the order of Fo Guang Shan (see last Friday's entry), he launched this new project, and he appears to be very popular.  However, note the sword-like tool at his side.  This is the instrument with which the master slaps his student meditators if they accidentally fall asleep during meditation practice.

After an hour or so of good personal conversation, we came to the usual exchange of gifts at the end of such a visit.  Wyatt had come to Taiwan prepared with a number of nicely wrapped Bibles, which would be one of our standard presents.  Master Huei Guang had just mentioned that he had never read the Bible, and that he dearly wished he had one, when Wyatt handed him one.  We broke Chinese custom and encouraged him to open the package right then and there, which he did, and you can see the result on his face.  It had been a long, long time since I have seen anyone so genuinely excited to receive a Bible.  May the Word of God exercise its power in his life and his ongoing search for truth.  

(Just in case you're wondering, we each received a shirt from the temple.)

WHILE I WAS GONE . . .

Furthermore, James Sire's fifth edition of his Universe Next Door was officially published.  (Taylor students and graduates may recognize it as one of the original sources for the "Foundations" course, previously known as "Freshman Seminar." The book and course have grown apart from each other to a certain extent; Mark Cosgrove, of course, has now published his notes in book form, and you can find them under the title of Foundations of Christian Thought at ChristianBooksBibles.com.) Anyway, over the years, Jim Sire has added quite a bit of material to his book, and some of you may remember that I wrote a chapter on Islamic theism for it during my last year of teaching.  It didn't rate mention on the front cover, but it's there as chapter 10 of the work.  Let me repeat, as I did a while back, that it is an honor to have been allowed to make a contribution to that classic work.  

That's all for tonight.  Oh, okay, I'll throw in a couple of pictures of Taiwan, just to keep the mood going.  You see here a composite, cleverly stitched together by your skilled, but humble, bloggist. Seasoned travelers will undoubtedly recognize the little plaza outside of the train station of Taichung.  

The Medicine Buddha in LA

Our trip to learn about Buddhism in Taiwan began in L.A.  Not too far from Biola University (though undoubtedly not connected) there is a Buddhist temple, finished in 1988.  When I say "temple," I mean "temple complex," a number of buildings, halls, and exhibitions on what is a virtual Disneyland of Buddhism.  Wait!  Make that "Hsing Yun Land," and you're not far from the reality.

The actual name of the temple is "Hsi Lai," which means "Coming West" or "Moving West," an appropriate name for this mission from the East to the West.  From a material point of view, it definitely seems to be a success.  What we saw there is a phenomenon we encountered all along the way: a revised or adapted form of Buddhism that maintains traditional forms of thought and practice, but attempts simultaneously to appeal to a twenty-first century outlook.  This particular order is called Fo Guang Shan (Buddha's Mountain of Light), and, like most Chinese Buddhism today, its roots straddle early Chan (Zen) and early Pure Land Buddhism.  But don't confuse these Chinese versions with their later Japanese offspring.  This order was convoked by a monk named Hsing Yun in 1967, and its goal has been to establish a Pure Land on earth.  ("I really am for world peace!")

For me the most intriguing item of interest was the importance of the "Medicine Buddha."  As is true for most Dhyani Buddhas, his role in Buddhism is highly variable, depending on geographical setting and historical linkages.  In the context of this particular tradition, he is called Amitayus, and he is the Buddha of the East, corresponding to Amithaba, who created the Pure Land of the West.  In other contexts, e.g. Tibetan Buddhism, Amitayus is a projective form of Amithaba, while the Eastern quadrant of the universe is governed by Akshobya, who built his own Pure Land of the East, providing a second opportunity alongside that given by Amithaba.  Regardless of his identification in the mythology, there is no question that the Medicine Buddha plays an important role in the lives of the common people.  He is usually pictured holding an object associated with immortality: a pagoda, a bowl filled with an elixir, or an orb.  

I decided on this, our first temple visit as a team, to be totally honest and let Wyatt and Ncho know as soon as I was too tired to go on and set up a pattern that I would find a place to rest while they could move along further to associated museums, gift shops, or whatever.  We were able to maintain that practice pretty much the whole trip, for which I was very thankful.  

MADE IN TAIWAN

Those who have hung around my blog for a while know that I tend not to advertise overseas trips indiscriminately in advance.  Sorry if you're disappointed, let alone upset, if you got left out of the loop, which has a rather short diameter, but there are several strong reasons for it.  For those of you who knew, thanks for your thoughts and prayer support.  The objective of the trip was to visit a plethora of Buddhist temples in Taiwan and to talk to converts from Buddhism to Christianity.  The team consisted of Wyatt, who is my friend and has been my companion on several previous trips abroad, Ntchotchi (hereafter: "Ncho") along with her husband Intchutchuna (hereafter: "Nchi").  Oh yeah, you might not find them listed under those names listed in the phone book either.  I'm not meaning to be overdramatic (if I were, I would have to disguise my identity also and not publish any pictures), but just following some basic measures for publishing something unrestricted on the web.  In Taiwan, we were joined on most days by Wa-ta-wa (hereafter "Wa"), a Buddhist college professor, who opened many a door for us.  

For tonight, I will just give a quick summary and a few introductory pictures.  After spending a couple of days in Los Angeles, we enjoyed a 14 ½ hour flight to Taipei, which we followed up immediately with a five-hour bus ride down to Tainan, our headquarters for the next week or so.  Since most of our locations were around Taichung, we did quite a bit of commuting by train each day.  Then we went to Hualien by way of Taipei (the quick way of getting there), and finally spent our last few days in Taipei.

The trip was physically demanding, but everyone was looking out for me: making sure I was taking my meds, eating enough fruits and vegetables, and taking rests whenever possible.  

Taiwan is an intrinsically beautiful island, though in all candor I must say that much of the industrialized part of the west coast has taken on a somewhat disappointing resemblance to New Jersey with palm trees.  Nevertheless, much of the rest of it makes up in aesthetic appeal.   At that, I need to apologize for some of my pictures in advance.  Due to the virtually ever-present haze, photography became a little difficult at times.  In some cases, I've left the view as it was; in others I've enhanced it subsequently when I've wanted you to see details, creating a little bit of a spinach effect for the greenery.  You may substitute other vegetables of your choice as you see fit. 

Lots of stories to come!